Meet the Pyro
by Femgie
Summary: How the Pyro became who he is.


Was it in his nature? Becoming a cold hearted killer? He wasn't sure.

His father was a heavy drinker, and when he was in the right mood (which was the case whenever he drank) he would beat his mother. That sounded like a cliché, but it wasn't something nice or normal for him to watch his father beat his mother everyday. His mother getting enraged one day and stabbing his father exactly fourteen times was not something to easily deal with either.

He was only seven years old.

His father being dead and his mother being in jail left only one option for the boy who had no other relatives: orphanage. Orphanages give little boys and girls the chance to gain what they lost along with their parents.

However, his was not willing to give him any chances.

He met a lot of boys and girls around his age there, who were not as innocent as little boys and girls. During the following years he spent at the orphanage, he got insulted, beaten, drugged and raped.

He was only seventeen when he was (finally) taken to a hospital, in a very injured and comatose state. The authorities of the orphanage commented nothing, and took him back as soon as he was okay enough to walk in pain.

There was no change in the rules or the attitudes, the vicious cycle continued. Being high and being hurt caused him to slowly lose himself (His mind? He was not certain).

And then, the huge fire came. The fire that destroyed the whole orphanage, burning down the building along with the orphans and the authorities inside.

Only one person had survived, even nearly without a scratch.

He was smiling contently over the burnt, crusted bodies when the police came.

It was not easy for the court to decide whether he was sane or not, however the decision made, he was sent to jail.

Next fifteen years passed just as if he was at the orphanage, while there were rumors that reached even him. Was he going to be kept in prison for the rest of his life, or with the few changes in law, be executed?

The rumors stopped as abruptly as they started. Then, a woman came to see him.

He did not know her. Was she a distant relative? Not likely. A relative of those crusted things which were once called children? Possibly. As he observed the woman in a stylish purple suit, he was not very sure about that either. The woman had a superior air, something that made him respect her, although, not afraid of her.

The woman who was in her mid thirties said she had came to him to make an offer. He was not very ambitious to learn, since offers had meant pain for him through all these years.

"I will get you out of here, just like I made them draw back the possible verdict of execution of you,"

He raised an eyebrow, of course he didn't believe her. Or... Did he? The woman seemed capable of doing anything she wanted, getting her hands on anything she desired-

"If, you agree to work for me."

A-ha, that part of the offer. He snorted.

"I guarantee you will have much better conditions, and you will find your job very interesting." She smiled with a slightly arrogant manner. "I know why you are in jail" She leaned closer and whispered, "Are you sorry for what you have done? Burning people, giving them a most painful death?"

He tilted his head and pondered upon it, and with a nearly innocent laugh, he answered, "No."

She laughed too. "Then we're on the right track." He was suddenly curious about this interesting woman and the kind of a job she would offer. "You will be hired by the Builders League United, and work for them as their Pyro. Your job will be burning down the enemy team, Reliable Excavation Demolition, to death."

He laughed again. He didn't know about any of the names she mentioned, he also couldn't see any reason for him to accept such a weird offer from an anonymous woman visiting him in jail. Even if such a job would be real, he would be back in jail without even noticing.

Right?

"We have a respawn system that allows the nine members of each team to get back to life, so you won't be exactly committing murder, thus will not be charged."

That sounded crazy.

Being well aware that her opponent was puzzled (and definitely not believing her) she produced a photograph from inside her fancy purse. "I believe you know this gentleman."

The 'gentleman' was no other person than one of his drugdealer/rapist in the orphanage, in red clothing. "You will be fighting against him," His face became unreadable.

"If you accept my offer."

He looked up into her eyes, and never lost eye contact while giving his answer.

One week passed, and his flamethrower has already been the cause of most of the screams at 2fort.

Was this in his nature? Was it caused by nurture? He no longer thought about such questions as he became the nameless, soulless, anonymous killing machine behind the lifeless goggles of his optical mask.


End file.
